Bound by Favours
by IceGirl2772
Summary: Scott Tracy and Indiana Evans were bound by favours due to an incident in their past. But what if they were bound by something OTHER than the favour Scott owes Indiana but can never seem to repay? Scott/OC Hinted Alan/TinTin and other Tracy brothers/OC pairings R&R T IS THE HIGHEST RATING I'LL GO! NO SMUTS! Rewrite of The Thunderbird and the Doctor.
1. Ready to Start

**I wasn't happy with ****_The Thunderbird and the Doctor_****. So I decided to delete it. Well…when the manage stories thing on the website decides to work again. I hate it when the site decides to glitch and have a small temper tantrum. (PS: it's deleted now.)**

**Basically, with this one, it's all in Scott's POV and this woman is someone he knew back when he was in the Air Force. It's still Indiana Evans and she's still a doctor. But she was a captain from the USAF medical corps (I actually researched that) and let's just say that Scott and Indiana have this bond that nobody understands and will be explained throughout the story.**

**ENJOY!**

**…or not…**

**Also, I know (or at least, I hope) that the conflict in the Middle East and everything is slowing down or (not likely) ending. However, for the purposes of this story, the conflict in the Middle East has its flare-ups and cool-downs. For what happened with Scott, the conflict had a massive flare-up in 2035 and has not cooled down since then and Scott is fighting in the conflict.**

_I was fighting in the Middle East when it happened._

_It was hard to believe that even though the war started over 60 years ago, it was still as close to ending as it was when it started._

_The enemy was on my tail. Literally._

_My group was called to assist some American soldiers on the ground, who had called in about an air strike that was occurring. Most of my group was shot down upon arrival. So to save everyone else from death, I acted as a decoy._

_I drew the enemy out into the desert, as far away from the village and the soldiers on the ground (as well as the remaining survivors in the air) as I could._

_Using the skills I was taught the minute I joined the Air Force, I managed to out-maneuver and shoot down all but one enemy fighter jet. This one wouldn't go down easy._

_Within moments, I was falling. Instruments were failing everywhere. I realised what had happened._

_I was shot down._

Every night since it happened, I had the same dream about it.

Every night (and morning, on occasion), I would wake up in a cold sweat, realizing that the days of the Air Force were nothing but days gone by.

But I would never forget what happened.

I would never forget the debt I owed her.

As I walked into the kitchen, I saw her.

Indiana Evans was a marvel. Not just in her looks. Her brown hair and brown eyes and perfect…well, every perfect inch of her body, had all the men in the Air Force falling over themselves to even speak with her, let alone flirt with her. But she was a marvel with everything else.

"Morning, Scott," she greeted me as she moved around the kitchen with the plates.

"Morning, Captain," I smirked.

Indiana was a captain in the USAF Medical Corps when we first met. She obtained the position by attending medical school, obtaining her doctor's degree and going through the necessary medical training before joining the corps. Because she did that, she automatically entered the corps with the rank of captain.

And…well, I don't really like to go into details. But one thing I learned since she moved to the island is that she hated being referred to as her rank in the corps. Especially since, like me, she has left her days in the Air Force far behind her. In fact, she left because my father offered her the position she holds now after everything that happened (not that he knew the full details about it).

And mostly because I wouldn't stop recommending her like hell.

"Major Tracy, how many times have I told you not to refer to me by my rank?" Indiana asked, clearly exasperated.

"Only when you stop referring to me by mine, Captain Evans," I retorted.

"Would you like me to burn your toast or not?" Indiana smirked.

"Need some help?" I offered.

"No. I should be fine," Indiana declined before saying, "Don't tell me you want bacon and eggs again."

"What's wrong with bacon and eggs?" I asked.

"Poached eggs are healthy. Fried eggs fried in the greasy butter and oil is not. Likewise with the bacon," Indiana retorted.

"Remind me again why we need a doctor," I said.

"Because you may fall into situations that require procedures beyond the EMT-level training that everyone on the island here – and a certain someone on a certain space station – has acquired," Indiana shot back, "Basic paramedic skills can only get you so far. For certain situations, you need a real doctor with real qualifications."

"So…we are official ready to start operating," I whispered.

Her words hit home more than she thought they did. It all never sunk in until now that we were going to be operating in a matter of time. Even when John left to go to space, it never fully sunk in.

"Yes," Indiana smiled as she tossed me some toast, "Yes we are."

I smiled back as I caught the toast in my hand.

It was official. International Rescue was ready to start operating.

**That was just a small prelude of sorts. Essentially, I'm going straight into it. As I said before, it's all in Scott's POV. So it's gonna have some extra bits and scenes from the episodes that he's in. I've also always wanted to do this thing where we could see what some Tracy boys (mainly Scott, he's my favourite) think whenever they're on an emergency call or in general life.**

**You'll find out more about the depth of Scott and Indiana's relationship throughout the story. If I gave it all away (even though I sort of did regardless), it would lose its purpose.**

**Reviews are golden. Be cautious with criticism. Having been bullied – mentally, emotionally and physically – for basically my entire life, I'm sensitive to certain things still because of how bad the bullying was. Fellow bullying victims would understand my point. Favourites make me glow in happiness. Adding me or this story to your alerts tells me you're interested in knowing what happens next.**

**Now that is out of the way, I shall release you from the torture of my company so you can do your part for this story and get on with your lives. **

**BYE!**


	2. Our First Assignment

**Hello, everybody!**

**REVIEW REPLIES!**

**JoTracy123: ****_Loved it and so can't wait for more now. Xx_**

**Thanks, Jo! Nice to hear from you again. You're not upset I deleted ****_The Thunderbird and the Doctor_****, are you?**

**beadbird: ****_I was just going to turn off the computer and thought, aw, just 1 little story…and I'm hooked! Please update soon, IceGirl. _**

**That's what happened with me and criminally charmed's stories. You can never read just one on here. Glad you're liking the story so far. Hopefully, I can keep it up. **

**blake b: ****_So this is why you haven't updated_**

**_Let the comment war begin!_**

**What comment war?**

**Here we go, ladies and gentlemen!**

**I OWN NOTHING EXCEPT MY OC!**

**ENJOY!**

**…or not…**

* * *

I remember the saying that a lot of my fellow airmen from the Air Force used to say.

The waiting game is always the worst game to play.

Until now, I never realised how true it was.

International Rescue is now ready to start operating. That waiting game is over. But now, my father, myself, my brothers, Brains and Indiana have a different kind of waiting game to play.

And we all could all be in the waiting game for a little while. Because it could take ages for John to intercept an emergency call.

"Hey, Scott," Virgil greeted as he walked into the poolroom.

Virgil was the middle brother in the family – and the only other brunette out of all five of us. Virgil and I had brown hair like our father, John and Alan had blonde hair like our mother and Gordon underwent a random genetic lottery and ended up with red hair like our maternal grandfather, who died not long after our parents got married.

"Hey, Virgil," I responded, "Have we got a call yet?"

"Not yet," Virgil shook his head, "Fancy a game of pool?"

"Well, it'll keep us occupied," I shrugged.

If receiving an emergency call was going to take a while, we might as well find something to keep us occupied.

As I began to fix all the balls in the triangle and Virgil retrieved the cues, I asked,

"What are the others doing? Should we ask them to join us?"

"Well, Brains is in his lab. Even though our Thunderbird craft hasn't been out yet, he's already working on some upgrades for them. I don't think I want to know what Gordon and Alan are up to," Virgil began listing.

"Fair enough," I laughed.

I might have spent most of my life raising the kid and changing his diapers, Alan always had a close relationship with Gordon, maybe because Gordon's closer to Alan age wise. But something we learned growing up is whenever the two of them are together, it is better that we don't know what they're up to.

"Wait. What about Ana?" I suddenly asked, remembering that Virgil didn't say what Indiana was doing.

"Father's called for her. Kyrano's had some sort of dizzy spell and Indiana wants to check over him," Virgil answered.

"Is he alright?" I inquired worriedly.

Kyrano – as well as his daughter TinTin – has always been like family for all of us. He and Dad became fast friends before Dad entered the astronaut program. Many years later, when Dad asked Kyrano to become our house servant when we moved to the island and began work to start up International Rescue, he said yes. In gratitude, Dad even paid for TinTin to be educated at the finest university in America and she later went on a European tour as part of her graduation. From my understanding, she was supposed to be home Friday.

"From the sounds of things, he's fine. Indiana doesn't understand how it happened. There is no medical reason for him to have one and no evidence of him actually _having_ one," Virgil told me.

"That's odd," I mused.

"That's why Indiana threw in the idea of having a specialist flown out here for a follow-up. Indiana may be more than capable – being in the Air Force and everything – but she feels more comfortable having a specialist to double check. You know, in case she missed something," Virgil added.

"Indiana doesn't miss anything," I grumbled, "You wanna break?"

"You can go," Virgil shook his head, choosing not to comment on my earlier comment.

I may be close to all of my brothers. But I spent a lot of time with Virgil growing up and I'm closest to him. So, naturally, he's the only one that knows the full extent of what happened in the Air Force that introduced me to Indiana Evans. He also knows why I kept insisting that she become International Rescue's medic.

"She's too good to miss anything," I enforced, lining up my cue before hitting the cue ball and breaking.

"Scott, no one's disputing that. Father never would have hired her if she weren't capable of doing the job," Virgil reassured me, "Is this about…?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," I cut in.

"You're still dreaming about it?"

Virgil meant for that phrase to come out as a question. I somehow sensed that. However, due to the amount of times it has happened, it came out as a statement. The therapists in the Air Force I had to see said that I was cleared concerning the development of PTSD. But it has been known to come later – sometimes several months after the fact.

"I don't have PTSD, Virgil," I shook my head.

"I never said you had it," Virgil defended himself, "But it's been several months since you were shot down. Why can't you stop dreaming about it?"

"I don't know, Virg," I answered, "I don't know why I can't forget about it. Maybe it's because of Ana."

"Ana?" Virgil repeated in confusion.

Remember how I said that Virgil was the only one who knew the full extent of what happened all those months ago in the Air Force? Well…I may have over exaggerated slightly. Virgil simply knew more about it than everyone else. However, he doesn't know the full extent of everything that happened with Indiana.

Fortunately, I didn't have to answer. Because I heard the buzzer above the pool table.

"This is it. We have our first call. Come on!" I ushered.

Our game of pool – and, thankfully, our unfinished conversation – would have to wait.

When we came up, Alan, Gordon, Brains and Indiana were also in the main room. We had been waiting for our first emergency call since we first started operations. We were all eager to get out there and save lives that couldn't be saved via normal conventions. Virgil and I took the two remaining seats. Indiana was standing behind me while Alan stood behind Virgil. Gordon had the other seat that was available. Father was standing in front of his desk while Brains sat in the single chair next to it. We all sat there patiently, waiting to hear about our first assignment.

"How many of you have heard of the Fireflash?" Father asked.

When we all nodded, he continued, "John has intercepted radio transmissions between the Fireflash and London Airport. Someone has sabotaged the plane. There is a bomb that has been placed in the landing gear. If they had landed normally when they arrived in Tokyo, the bomb would have detonated. Currently, the Fireflash is circling London Airport until they can figure out what they can do to save everyone on board."

"Wait!" Indiana cut in, "Isn't TinTin meant to be flying from London to Tokyo today?"

"Ana, it would have to be a total coincidence for TinTin to be on that flight. At least five flights make the London-Tokyo commute every day," Gordon pointed out.

"I hate to tell you boys this. But TinTin is indeed on that plane," Father announced.

"What?!" Alan spluttered.

I glanced worriedly at my youngest brother. Because of how close they were age-wise, TinTin found that she got on better with Alan than the rest of us. A lot of us actually began suspecting that the two had developed romantic feelings for each other. However, Alan's hotheadedness can tend to get in the way of any developing romance. I'm amazed that TinTin manages to put up with his stubborn-ass attitude.

I soon returned the attention to my father, however, as he finished the briefing concerning our first emergency call,

"OK, boys. That's the brief. It's your first assignment. So make it good. As you know, your uniforms are in your craft and must only be worn on call."

"Right, father," I nodded.

"OK, father," Alan echoed, raising his hand in reassurance.

"Sure thing, dad," Virgil promised.

"Yeah, father," Gordon indicated his promise with a nod.

"Also, guys. It's only the first assignment. Please, for the love of God, try not to get injured," Indiana pleaded, "I know you probably won't be able to help it if you do. But if you can, avoid injuries and save them for later assignments."

"Well, we'll try, Ana. But I personally can't hold any promises," I warned her.

"I'll take that for now," Indiana shrugged.

"OK, Scott. Away you go. And keep in touch," Father instructed.

"Yes, sir," I nodded, already rising from my seat.

"Well, Brains, your phenomenal mind made all of this possible. Now, you're gonna see it in operation," Father decreed.

That was true. Hiram K. Hackenbacker – better known to us as Brains – is a highly respected engineer and aircraft designer. After Father saw him nervously presenting a lecture at an aeronautics museum, he immediately recruited him for the task of designing all the Thunderbird craft and the rescue equipment. Afterwards, Father invited Brains to live on the island with us to maintain the craft and everything else.

As I grabbed the lamps on either side of my head and the wall began to rotate to take me into the silo, I heard everyone else call out after me,

"Hey, good luck, Scott!"

"Take it easy, Scott!"

"Be careful, Scott!"

That last one made me smile. Indiana's job was to worry about all of us as the medic.

I approached the platform that would take me out to my Thunderbird craft. Thunderbird 1 was the fastest craft in the fleet, being able to reach 15000 miles per hour. As the pilot of Thunderbird 1, I would be the first responder to the scene. I would arrive, set up mobile control, assess the situation and decide what needed to be done in order to save the day.

The launch point for Thunderbird 1 was to be from where the pool normally is (it moves back to make room for my launch point). So while Thunderbird 1 was moving down the ramp to the launch point, I changed into my uniform.

My uniform was a regular blue – just like everyone else's uniforms. However, our utility belts were all a different colour so we could tell each other apart. My utility belt was a pale blue. Inside my utility belt was my gun and a few other nick-nacks. Father insisted on all of us carrying a gun whenever we were in uniform and away from the base because we never knew what kind of dangers we would face on the job.

The only ones who wouldn't carry a gun were TinTin and Indiana, should they ever come on a mission with us.

That last thought alone set something off in me. Not concerning TinTin…as much. I'll leave the extreme fussing over TinTin to Alan. But it was over Indiana.

She may have been in the Air Force and seen all kinds of dangers like me. But I'll be damned if she ever ends up going on a rescue!

Before I knew it, I reached the bottom of the ramp towards the launch point. Immediately, I sat in my seat and harnessed myself as I moved my controllers down, moving it directly underneath the hole where the pool once was.

When I was ready, the rockets that powered Thunderbird 1 came to life.

And off I went.

I felt the same thrill I felt whenever I flew a fighter jet in the Air Force. Only this was a different kind of thrill. I already knew that doing the work for International Rescue was going to mean more than the work I did in the Air Force. Don't get me wrong. My time in the Air Force will always mean something to me. Specifically because of a certain medic. But I feel like with International Rescue, I can do more.

"International Rescue from Thunderbird 1. Changing to horizontal flight," I reported.

With a click of my controls, I was now flying in the horizontal position. Thunderbird 1 was officially heading towards the rescue zone. Now, I could get to work.

"International Rescue Space Station, this is Thunderbird 1. Give me the lowdown, John," I requested.

"_Thunderbird 1 from Space Station. They're trying to dislodge the bomb by aerobatics. But they're not having much success._"

OK. So the bomb can't be dislodged by aerobatics. And clearly, they're trying to do so in a way that doesn't alert the passengers of the situation at hand. Because the last thing they need is to cause a panic and make the situation worse. And they can't attempt a landing because the force of the impact could detonate it.

Maybe it we could cushion the landing a little bit, the risk of detonating the bomb could be reduced.

"International Rescue from Thunderbird 1," I spoke into the radio.

"_Go ahead, Scott._"

"I'll be arriving at London Airport in 52 minutes. But it looks like I'll need heavy rescue," I reported.

"_OK, Scott. I'll organize that right away._"

Hopefully, father would realize that I'll need the elevator cars in order to ensure that the rescue is a success.

Even though I was still on the job, I was still able to daydream slightly.

Daydream about what I knew about Indiana Evans.

It wasn't much, though. I knew that originally, she was born in a small town called Encinal in New Mexico. Her mother was an up-and-coming supermodel until she got knocked up. When she was two, her father left to deal with some out-of-town business and simply never came back. Ever since then, she was abused physically and emotionally. When she was five, a social worker came and took her to live with her aunt in Boston, where she was raised, terminating all parental rights that her mother had.

And that was what I learned…when we were in the Air Force together. I haven't learned much more about her since. Even when she moved with us to the island.

When everything is back to normal (most likely to be sometime tonight), I had to change that.

But for now, I had a rescue to focus on. I realized that I should call in for an update.

"International Rescue from Thunderbird 1. ETA London Airport now 41 minutes. Any more news?" I asked.

"_Yes, Scott. John's just reported in from the Space Station that a rescue attempt is about to be made. It seems from transmissions intercepted that they are going to try and board a man on Fireflash. How, we don't yet know. But continue your present course. It doesn't look too hopeful._"

"Let's hope they succeed," I remarked before asking, "What will happen if they can't get the bomb? What can happen to the passengers and the crew?"

To my surprise, it wasn't my father that responded. It was Indiana.

"_You mean if they remain in the air too long because they can't land?_"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"_If I didn't have the radiation factor to consider, they'd be fine for the next six months because the atomic motors would allow them to remain up there for that long and they'd be pretty well stocked with food, water and a basic first-aid kit. But the radiation safety factor is due for service within the next hour or so. If the passengers are exposed, they will have a series of complications. Radiation syndrome, pericarditis, respiratory failure; the list goes on. When you get there, work fast._"

"We'll be sure too," I promise before disconnecting the transmission after promising to keep in touch.

To be honest, I didn't know what the first two medical complications that Indiana told me about were. But I knew about the respiratory failure. I've seen a few men in the Air Force suffer from respiratory failure because of the cabin pressure in the fighter jets getting messed up. It's happened more times than people are aware of.

Those 41 minutes that stood between the danger zone and a possible rescue…I didn't know how to describe them. They didn't feel like 41 seconds or 41 hours. But they didn't feel like 41 minutes either.

It was all so confusing.

"London Tower from Thunderbird 1. Approaching London Airport. Height: 2500 feet. Air speed: 7.5 thousand miles per hour. Will be touching down in two minutes," I reported.

As I reported this to London Tower, I began preparing for the landing. I began my descent, the wings of Thunderbird 1 began to spread and I knew that within the next few moments, the supports were going to come down from near the rockets and the wings of Thunderbird 1.

"London Tower, this is International Rescue. Fireflash is in trouble and we are equipped to help you. Request permission to land," I requested.

There were a few moments of silence after I made my request. Obviously, the controllers were conferring with each other to decide what they should do. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long for a response concerning my clearance to land.

"_International Rescue, you are clear to land. Use runway 29._"

"Will not require runway. Coming in vertically," I told them.

I knew that this was our first assignment and no one knew what our aircrafts were capable of, let alone how they land. But I almost laughed when the controller in the tower assumed that I would be landing using a runway.

Before long, I felt the thud that signified Thunderbird 1 had touched ground. This was when it all became real.

A rescue operation was underway.

But first, I had to make a few requests,

"London Tower from International Rescue. Now listen carefully. I want men and transport to take my portable equipment to your control tower. And I want an insurance from you that you will place guards around my craft so no photographs are taken."

"_International Rescue, please provide details about your organization. We cannot grant facilities without knowing more details._"

I knew that this was standard procedure. I understood why they were doing this. But there was no time to take this kind of safety precautions.

And I told them just that.

"Look! There are six hundred people up there with about forty minutes to live! Now you can't help them! But I believe we can! Now what's it gonna be?!" I snapped.

"_Alright, International Rescue. But I just hope that you know what you're doing._"

I saw trucks arriving to help me with my equipment for the mobile control unit. Fortunately for me, it didn't take long to set up once I reached the control room. Once there, I found out that the passengers and crew had only thirty minutes left until the radiation safety factor expires. And with how long it's gonna take Virgil in Thunderbird 2 to get here (and the warnings Indiana had given me earlier), I knew I had to work fast.

"Now let's recap," I said after setting up and thinking about the information I had learned in transit to the danger zone, "Fireflash has another thirty minutes before its radiation safety factor expires."

"Right," the man in charge, Commander Norman, nodded.

"Now the specialized gear I require for the rescue will be here in 20 minutes, leaving us just ten minutes to put our rescue into operation," I decreed before picking up the handheld radio to contact Virgil, "Thunderbird 2, this is Mobile Control. Confirm estimated time of arrival at danger zone."

"_OK, Scott. Arriving in 19 and one half minutes from now._"

"Now as soon as you arrive, unload high-speed elevator car with two radio-controlled viciniaries. Then proceed to the end of runway 29 and report," I instructed.

"_Thunderbird 1, F.A.B._"

Then I turned to the radio established to the control panels and began my transmission, "Fireflash, this is International Rescue Mobile Control. In approximately 18 minutes from now, I will request you to land using runway 29. You are to come in with landing gear up. Repeat: landing gear up. Make a completely normal approach and keep your head."

"_Message understood. What's the action?_"

"Now listen carefully. We can't afford any mistakes," I warned before beginning to outline my scheme, "When Thunderbird 2 lands, the pilot will unload high-speed elevator cars and wait at the end of the runway. When you are one mile from threshold, he will start tracking. You are to land on those elevator cars. Hopefully, this will cushion the landing and prevent the bomb from detonating. Make sure you prepare your passengers for landing. It may be a bumpy one. Did you understand my instructions?"

"_Yes, sir. We will begin to prepare the passengers for landing now._"

Not long after I terminated the frequency between the Fireflash and myself, I heard one klaxon that I was hoping I wouldn't hear on my first emergency call.

The alarm on my automatic camera detector.

Father's going to kill me.

"The automatic camera detector! Quick! Someone's photographing the instrument panel of Thunderbird 1! It's imperative that you get this man and stop him!" I cried.

Commander Norman was quick to take action, immediately activating his radio, "Airport Police. This is the Control Tower. Someone has taken photographs inside the International Rescue aircraft. Grab him and bring him in for questioning."

I don't know what wait was more tense. The wait for Virgil to arrive so we could rescue everyone in the Fireflash. Or the wait for the Airport Police to catch the man who photographed Thunderbird 1.

When we get back to base, I will have to thank Brains for installing the automatic camera detector in Thunderbird 1.

Five minutes later, Thunderbird 2 finally arrived. As instructed, Virgil landed at the end of runway 29. Commander Norman, Harris and I watched as the main body of Thunderbird 2 lifted up to reveal Pod 3. When the main body was away from the pod, the flap fell away and opened to reveal the Master Elevator Car, driven by Virgil travelling towards the runway. Two radio-controlled cars followed him.

Then I received some bad news.

"_London Tower from Airport Mobile Police. We have lost contact with the pursued car. Vehicle was last seen turning onto M1 heading towards Burmia._"

"Message received and understood," Commander Norman acknowledged before turning to me, "I'm sorry. We did our best."

I couldn't bring myself to blame the man. He obeyed my original requests and tried his best to catch the person who broke into my aircraft and took those photos.

Fortunately, there was someone else who could stop him.

"OK. Leave this to me," was all I said before I turned in my seat and pressed a button, causing the teapot light to illuminate above it, "Mobile Control calling International Rescue England."

Lady Penelope's voice immediately responded.

"_International Rescue. Lady Penelope speaking._"

"Require your assistance. Man with photographic records of Thunderbird 1 proceeding along M1 motorway in your direction. Car registration: 695CMO. Over," I reported.

"_Mobile Control, F.A.B._"

If anyone can stop the man and keep this operation a secret, it's Lady Penelope.

"_Mobile Control from Fireflash. We have only five minutes left. Unless you can start rescue operation immediately, we've had it._"

I understood the situation those pilots were in. However, one thing that wasn't going to help was those pilots panicking when they were the ones who had to land the plane. The best thing they can do is keep calm.

"Standby, Fireflash," was all I said before I turned to my portable radio, "Thunderbird 2, this is Mobile Control. Are you ready, Virgil?"

It took me a few minutes to get an answer from Virgil. When I looked out the window, I saw that the master elevator car was lined up at the end of runway 29 and that the radio-controlled elevator cars were lining up behind him spread out ready to take the weight of the wings.

"_Mobile Control and Fireflash, this is Thunderbird 2. I'm ready._"

"Thunderbird 2 from Control, F.A.B," I acknowledged before saying to Fireflash, "Control to Fireflash, commence your approach. And good luck. After acknowledgement of this transmission, do not make any further calls. Whatever happens, keep this frequency clear."

"_Rodger, Control. Starting approach now. And however it turns out, thanks._"

Now here comes the hard part of the rescue. Harris was sitting by the tracker screen to tell us how far Fireflash was from threshold, how fast they were going and their overall speed.

"Aircraft approaching glide path. Five miles to threshold," Harris reported.

"Standby, Virgil," I instructed, "Fireflash on final approach."

Then I heard the news that I did NOT want to hear.

"_Scott, I've got a fault on number three!_"

"OK. Check it out," I requested before turning to my stationary radio, "Fireflash, continue your approach."

I knew that the Fireflash had heard Virgil's transmission about the fault. So I had to tell them to continue their approach and pray to God that it all clears up in time.

"Aircraft on glide path. Three and one half miles to threshold," Harris cut in.

"Standby, crash tenders," I said.

"Crash tenders to centre of 29," Commander Norman ordered.

"_Rodger._"

I heard the sirens that told me that the crash tenders were on their way to runway 29. Now I had another situation to worry about.

"What's the status, Virgil?" I asked.

"_Fault cleared._"

"What was it?" I inquired.

"_Don't know. It's just cleared._"

"Well, let's hope it holds up," I remarked before reporting, "Standby, Virgil. Fireflash one and one half miles from threshold. …One and one quarter miles from threshold. …One mile from threshold. Start tracking."

"_Mobile Control, F.A.B._"

"Fireflash 700 yards from threshold. Air speed: 130 knots," Harris told us.

"Increase to 108," I instructed Virgil.

"_F.A.B._"

I watched from the window as Fireflash hovered above the runway before flying over the elevator cars ready to land on. The master elevator car – the one Virgil was driving – would take the front of the plane (specifically around the cockpit) while the two radio-controlled cars would take the weight of the two wings.

I really hope that fault doesn't turn up.

"_OK, Fireflash. Cut engines._"

I saw as the Fireflash slowly descended towards the elevator cars. I prayed that this was work. It was our first assignment and lives were at stake. We can't fail.

Then I saw in horror as radio controlled car number three swerved out of control and drove away from the rest. It eventually crashed into an unmanned aircraft. Fortunately, no one was aboard.

"_FIREFLASH! OVERSHOOT! OVERSHOOT! Sorry, Scott. Radio fault again in number three control system._"

"OK, Virgil. Backtrack to starting point and bring standby elevator car into use," I instructed, mentally thanking God that we had thought to pack a backup, "Fireflash, this is Mobile Control. What is your radiation safety factor now?"

"_Mobile Control, radiation safety factor has expired. If we're not down in a couple of minutes, passengers and crew would have received fatal exposure._"

OK. That was only the last thing I wanted to hear. We only had one chance left.

"OK, Fireflash. Commence second approach," I instructed.

"_Rodger._"

"Crash crews, return to crash positions. Let those aircraft burn. Fireflash is carrying passengers! They're not!" Commander Norman yelled into the radio.

"_Mobile Control, turning for second approach._"

"Clear for second approach. No further transmissions please!" I insisted.

I really hope Virgil's got that back-up elevator car lined up.

"Aircraft approaching glide path. Four miles to threshold," Harris reported.

"Standby, Virgil. Fireflash on final approach," I warned Virgil.

"_OK, Scott. Standing by._"

"Aircraft on glide path. Three miles to threshold," Harris told us.

"Stand by, crash tenders," I said.

"Crash crews to centre of 29," Commander Norman instructed.

"_Rodger._"

This was our last chance. And we had to make sure we got this right.

"Fireflash now one mile from threshold. Start tracking," I said to Virgil.

"_F.A.B._"

"Fireflash 500 yards from threshold. Airspeed: 120 knots," Harris observed from the scanners he was stationed at.

"Increased to 105," I instructed Virgil after doing a quick equation in my head.

"_105. F.A.B._"

Knowing that I wouldn't be needed at the radio anymore, I raced to the window with Commander Norman and Harris. But we could still hear the transmissions from the radio on Mobile Control.

"_Fireflash from Thunderbird 2. Cut engines._"

I watched as the starboard wing landed on the radio-controlled car and the body of the plane landed on the car that Virgil was driving. However, the secondary radio-controlled car was a little behind and the port wing was coming a little bit too close to the runway for our liking.

"_FIREFLASH! LIFT PORT WING! LIFT PORT WING! …CUT POWER!_"

The three of us let out the breath we didn't realize we were holding when the port wing landed on the elevator car that had lagged behind the rest.

"_OK, FIREFLASH! REVERSE THRUST!_"

The reverse thrusts weren't going to be enough to stop the plane completely. They were going too fast for the reverse thrusts to stop the plane on their own. Thinking the same thing, Virgil applied the minimum breaks to the elevator cars.

"_WE'RE NOT GONNA MAKE IT! WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF RUNWAY!_"

I couldn't help but think that the pilot – whose name I learned moments ago was Captain Hanson – was right. The runway wasn't that long. I noticed that the elevator cars began skidding even more and a few explosions pop because Virgil had applied the maximum breaks.

The cars came even closer to stopping than before. But I couldn't start breathing just yet. The master elevator car began to lose control…

And swerved away altogether.

The body of the Fireflash collided with the runway, skidding as it lost momentum. The master elevator car guided the nosecone to the bordering field before crashing in the small gorge on the other side of the runway and landing upside down.

It took everything I had in me not to run down there and go all 'mother-hen' on him.

I'll save that for Indiana.

"They made it!" Commander Norma cheered, making me realized that the plane had stopped and the bomb had not detonated as feared, "They made it! Jolly good show, old boy!"

"Man, what a show!" Harris concurred.

I didn't pay heed to the showering of praise they were giving me. I only have one thing on my mind.

"Are you OK, Virgil?!" I asked anxiously.

If he didn't respond or was in pain, nothing was going to stop me. I was going to run down there and take care of my little brother like I promised Mum I would before she died. And promises that I make to my parents or made on my mother's grave are promises I keep.

Especially when it concerns family.

"_OK, Scott. Good timing._"

I let out a long sigh of relief when I heard that response, "Great, Virgil. Just great. But just so you know, you're the one who has to tell Ana when we get home."

"_Oh no. Do you have any idea how dangerous Ana is with her __**bare hands**__?! Never mind with a __**surgical tool**__?!_"

'_Considering I knew her before you did, yep,_' I thought silently to myself as I watched the crash tenders speed towards the Fireflash.

There was no damage or fire to the craft. But there could be injured passengers.

"Indiana?" Harris repeated, "Any of you dating her?"

"Oh no," I stammered nervously, "She's our medic. She makes sure we're fit enough to go on rescues and treats us if we come back injured."

"How can we ever thank you?" Commander Norman asked, changing the subject quickly (must to my pleasure).

"Well, I'll tell you. It's essential for the reason I'll explain to you that this organization remains top secret. I want you to contact your authorities that there are no aircraft within a 100-mile radius when we take off and their assurance that we will not be tracked. Whatever happens, secrecy must be maintained at all costs," I answered.

"I'll do my best," Commander Norman promised before suddenly remembering, "But talking of secrecy, what about that character who photographed your aircraft?"

"Don't worry. He'll be taken care of," I smirked.

With Lady Penelope and Parker pursuing the guy, I'm happy to say that there won't be any leaked photos of Thunderbird 1 circulating anytime soon. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if I never see the guy.

* * *

When nighttime had rolled over Tracy Island, everyone was well relaxed. While enjoying a nice tune that Virgil was playing, everyone was doing different activities. Alan and Tin Tin were gazing at the ocean from the main balcony in a romantic fashion. Gordon and I were engaged in a battle of wits with a nice game of chess. Father was sitting on a chair reading a newspaper, waiting for Brains, Indiana and the specialist Dr. Roberts to come out and report on Kyrano's condition after his supposed dizzy spell when he learned of Tin Tin's homecoming a couple of days ago.

"Mr. Tracy, Indiana and Dr. Roberts would like to see you," Brains announced as he appeared in the doorway, his speech impediment clear as day.

"Just one moment, Brains. Operation: Cover-Up," Father said quickly.

With the press of a button on the side of the chair, the pictures of all five of us in our International Rescue uniforms disappeared into casual photos of us. Whenever we have a visitor to the island, we do this to prevent our secret from coming out. We have to do this to protect ourselves and the world if our equipment fell into the wrong hands because of how advanced it is.

"OK, Brains. Show them in," Father instructed.

"Sure thing, Mr. Tracy," Brains nodded before leaving.

Moments later, both doctors came out. And I found my eyes draw themselves to Indiana.

She was casually dressed in her usual attire of dark blue jeans with the black belt, black singlet and black boots along with her long brown hair being up in a ponytail. However, she had the traditional white doctor's coat over the attire and a stethoscope around her neck.

No matter how hard I tried to focus on the game, I couldn't take my eyes off her.

What is happening to me?

"Well, doc. What's the verdict?" Father asked.

"Oh, he's OK, Jeff. I have looked over Dr. Evans' notes and over Kyrano myself. And I can't account for that dizzy spell. But I can assure you there's nothing wrong," Dr. Roberts announced.

"Well, that's great news!" Father cheered as we all breathed a sigh of relief.

Kyrano was a part of our lives for as long as any of us could remember. He was considered to be a second father to all of us. Someone we could count on to look after us.

So to hear that he was perfectly fine relieved us greatly.

"Thanks for flying out here the way you did," Father thanked.

"Oh, anytime, Jeff. And especially anything for my favourite former resident. Always knew that she would turn out to be something special the minute she stepped foot in the hospital to begin her internship. And look how she turned out! Decorated Captain on the United States Air Force Medical Corps! Now doing well in the private sector! You got a lucky catch with this one!" Dr. Roberts gushed.

I almost burst out laughing at how much Indiana was blushing at Dr. Roberts' compliments to her. Gordon, however, was shameless at teasing Indiana. Well, that was until she went to reach for a pillow.

Remember how Virgil said she was dangerous with her bare hands or a surgical tool? Well, she's just as dangerous with any kind of projectile.

I'm suddenly scared to give her a gun.

"Well, how about that, Jeff? Some story, huh?" Dr. Roberts suddenly remarked.

By the smirk Indiana was shooting over to us, I knew what Dr. Roberts meant. Father was holding his copy of the World News paper and the front page story was captioned with a headline:

**_International Rescue: Who Are They?_**

"It sure is," Father nodded in agreement.

"Oh, fantastic how the whole thing is cooked up in mystery! I'd sure like to know who these people are! Because the one thing I'd like to do is shake them by the hand!" Dr. Roberts decreed.

"Well, thanks again, Doc!" Father said as they shook hands.

Indiana walked over to stand with Gordon and myself, still wearing that smirk. The three of us almost burst out laughing at the irony of how Dr. Roberts was talking about wanting to shake International Rescue by the hand for their good work…

And proceeded to do so and not realize it.

"So long, Jeff!" Dr. Roberts called from the doorway as he went to leave.

"So long!" Jeff responded as Dr. Roberts left before saying to all of us, "Well, fellas, I guess that handshake was for all of us. Boys, I think we're in business!"

Virgil than began playing a different tune in celebration of the announcement.

"Now it's official," Indiana murmured to me, referring to our conversation in the morning, "How does it feel, Major Tracy?"

"Well, Captain Evans, it feels just as amazing as it did in the Air Force. If not, better," I responded with a smile.

* * *

**I think International Rescue feels so much better than the Air Force. Because in International Rescue, you can do a lot more than others can. …No offence to anyone from any country's Air Force who's reading this! I respect service people!**

**Well, gotta scram. Hopefully, I did well. Considering doing Scott's POV is harder than I thought it would be.**

**You guys know what to do. Review. Fave. Alert. Whatever.**


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